The Wrath of Cerberus
by Jeannie3
Summary: Revised version of "Quentin & Amanda's Not So Excellent Adventure" set in 1897 with the RIGHT "true love"
1. Default Chapter

"The Wrath of Cerberus"  
  
"I forgive you". Beth's ghost wavered, then disappeared. "COME BACK!" Quentin screamed as he stepped toward where the vision had been, hand outstretched as if to touch her.  
  
"Don't you understand," he turned abruptly and continued, his voice raw with pain, anger, frustration and self-loathing. "I can't forgive MYSELF! For what I did to you; for the part I played." His voice softened to a gentle plea. "Please hear me, Beth!" His voice broke as he concluded and he buried his face in his hands, his breathing ragged. He staggered toward a chair and collapsed weakly into it. After a few moments he lifted his head, the only expression on his face one of despair and quiet resignation. Icily calm, he walked to the desk, pulled out the pistol he knew was always kept there, and put it in his pocket. With a deep breath and a final look around he headed out the door.  
  
&&  
  
Quentin stood on Widow's Hill. The scene from the night before played over and over in his brain. His defeat of Petofi, recovery of his body - then his encounter with Beth. Why had he kept walking toward her? Why had she been so close to the edge of the cliff? Her scream of "I HATE YOU!" as she tried to catch her balance; the long, drawn out scream of terror as she fell, then the abrupt silence; her broken, crumpled body on the rocks below.  
  
He sunk to his knees, sitting back on his heels, hands over his ears as if to block out the scenes playing over and over inside his head.  
  
Breathing in shuddering gasps he rose to his feet again, and headed toward the edge of the cliff, gun in hand. Last night proved that he was death to anyone foolish enough to love him, as the wolf was death to anyone who crossed its path. Quentin Collins had no future, he saw that now. Never safe, constantly on the run lest Petofi complete his scheme to take over Quentin's body as his own. Nothing but an endless lonely existence, causing nothing but misery and death to every life he touched. Petofi's threat about the transformations, the missing portrait. To know that he might transform at any time or place, with or without a full moon. NO! NO MORE!  
  
There was only one sure way to defeat Petofi --- and end this pain as well -- remove all possibility of a future for the body of Quentin Collins. The body had to be damaged so thoroughly that it would be completely and irreversibly dead. He looked again at the rocks below, clearly visible at low tide, then back at the gun in his hand. He couldn't count on being able to fire more than once. The shot he chose had to count. He walked to a spot over a particularly wicked looking outcropping and stood at the edge, hoping the rocks would finish anything the pistol shot left undamaged. As he raised the gun to the side of his head the barrel brushed the back of his ear in an obscene parody of a woman's caress. He shuddered, then changed his mind and jammed the barrel against the roof of his mouth, facing upward, his finger tightening on the trigger..  
  
^^^^^^^ "You will give me that please. And kindly step away from the edge. " Quentin whirled around at the sound of the stranger's voice. Without conscious thought he found himself walking back away from the edge of the cliff toward the nattily dressed gentleman who had appeared from nowhere.  
  
It's not your time!"  
  
"My time?"  
  
"To die"  
  
"Who are you to decide when my time is? God wouldn't want me and the Devil'd be happy not to wait. Quentin held his pistol trained on the stranger, finger on the trigger. His interest in living may have been low, but his interest in being a pawn again was even lower. "So, who are you? Another stooge of Petofi's? "  
  
"Ah, you must be Quentin Collins. MY name is Best. "  
  
"It would appear you're in error, Mr. Best. My time has come and gone - more than once -- yet I still live. I was meant to die months ago, with my mad wife's knife in my chest. Where were you when that was changed? What of the others who died because I still live?"  
  
Quentin looked at his hands, staring at them as if they belonged to a stranger. "'Will all Neptune's oceans wash this blood clean from my hands?' It only took one murder to drive lady Macbeth mad. How many have I to my credit? All innocent victims - victims of mine, victims of Petofi's." He began to name the victims, in the toneless voice of one who had recited a lesson far too many times. " Carl, my baby son - Beth. Oh Beth!"  
  
He fixed the intruder with a furious glare. "You didn't answer my question. What of those who died because of me? This wasn't Beth's time. Where were you when she lost her balance - because of me. She's the one you should have saved - but you took her from me!" Quentin extended his arm full length and his finger tightened on the trigger, gun aimed at the intruder's heart.  
  
"DON'T!" Best put out his hand with the palm facing Quentin.  
  
Quentin froze in mid motion, unable to move toward Best or to pull the trigger. The wrist of Quentin's gun hand moved sideways and downward, as if someone were twisting the gun out of his hand. The gun dropped onto the wet grass.  
  
"I am impervious to attack. You are not."  
  
"You say that as if I care what happens to me. It should be obvious to you that I WANT to die. "  
  
Quentin started laughing wildly. "Ironic, isn't it? Beth gets no second chance, yet you give me one which I have no use for." Quentin's laughter died away and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Are you a sporting man, Mr. Best?"  
  
"YOU would wager with ME?"  
  
"For what I want I would wager with the Devil himself - unless of course I already am.."  
  
"You live by courtesy of Count Petofi. I know that. " Best walked around Quentin as he spoke, eyeing him closely. "But even in my realm there are "arrangements" that can be made. What's your proposition?"  
  
" My life for hers. I come with you willingly and she gets to live the rest of her normal lifespan - with the condition that my body dies as well; messily and thoroughly enough that Petofi can never possess it again."  
  
"So you DO love her."  
  
Quentin nodded. "She should have a man who can love her as she deserves to be loved - not one who brings her nothing but heartache and death." Best remained silent and Quentin continued. "PLEASE! Let me put just this one thing right!"  
  
"Interesting, but not quite interesting enough. Let's up the stakes a bit, shall we?" Best continued, ruminating as if thinking out loud.  
  
"I like experiments, you know. You two, lovers lost, circumstances and wrong choices working against you at every turn. Should you be given a second chance, would you take advantage of it? Or, would this chance be wasted like all the others?"  
  
Quentin winced at the truth of the man's statement, remembering his unhealed relationship with Jamison. "What did you have in mind?" he asked suspiciously.  
  
"A wager for both your lives - winner take all."  
  
"Go on."  
  
"First of all, I agree to your condition regarding your body. Should you lose, I guarantee that it will be destroyed beyond Count Petofi's ability to reconstruct it. As to the terms of the wager. You will come with me now to the underworld -- your body will be protected while you are gone to prevent Petofi from repossessing it. Once we are there, you will see your Beth again, and I will give you the chance to lead her back out of the underworld."  
  
"And if I look behind me to see that she's really there she disappears, right?"  
  
"I may be bored and somewhat sentimental, but I am not stupid! I expect that a well educated young man such as yourself is familiar with the Greek myths. " Mr. Best glared at Quentin, upset at his presumption. "You will need to do something quite different if you want to keep your Euridice. Something particularly suited to a man of your profligate tastes. You may see your Beth, but you may not touch any part of her, in any way, for any reason; nor may she touch you."  
  
Quentin turned the proposition over and over in his mind, looking for loopholes and traps, for it was clear that they existed. No way to tell for certain what they would be before he saw what they would be facing. Then again, he was in what he once described to Magda as the enviable position of someone with nothing left to lose.  
  
"I agree. Now when do we start?"  
  
&&&&&&&&&


	2. The Wrath of Cerberus Chapter 2

The Wrath of Cerberus - Ch 2  
  
Quentin found himself following Mr. Best down a dark corridor. A door opened before them and through the door he saw what appeared to be the ornately decorated lobby of a hotel. The two men entered the "lobby" and the door shut firmly behind them. Quentin glanced uneasily at the firmly shut door, then glanced around curiously. He noted all the details: the palm trees, classical statuary, solid oak furniture and velvet curtains A bellboy was at the desk, writing in a large register. Best nodded at the man, who disappeared.  
  
"Well, how do you like it?"  
  
"Where is she?" Quentin interrupted.  
  
"Charming, isn't it? Not what you expected?" Mr. Best continued blandly, as if Quentin had never spoken.  
  
"Am I going to have to stay here?  
  
"Unless you can get out, Mr. Collins." Quentin rushed over and tried the door they had just entered through. It was as firmly shut as it had sounded. The doorknob clicked as he rotated it, but the door would not open.  
  
"No dragons, no guards. The door simply will not open for anyone but me."  
  
Quentin stalked back over to Mr. Best, his entire body tense. He was barely restraining himself from strangling the man.  
  
"You said that you would bring her here so I could take her away," he spat out through clenched teeth.  
  
"You really aren't thinking of yourself, are you? I like that.  
  
"Look, over there," Best gestured across the "lobby" to an imposing looking iron door, partially shielded by thick velvet curtains. The door seemed oddly out of place in the modern Victorian setting of the room, seeming more appropriate to a medieval prison.  
  
Quentin walked toward the door, with Mr. Best following closely behind him. He reached for the knob and turned it. The door opened with a piercing squeal. Lightning flashed, wind howled, and Quentin saw flashes of incredible, horrifying shapes.  
  
"THAT is the way out," Mr. Best confirmed.  
  
Quentin continued to stare out the door, his expression an odd mix of horror, dread and a curious fascination. He swallowed hard, cold with terror at what he believed he'd seen beyond the door. He was barely aware of the fact that Best was still speaking.  
  
"Seldom used, but my life is generally quite dull. Every now and then I like to amuse myself by giving someone who impresses me a chance to escape. It takes courage - you have that. It also takes cunning -that remains to be seen."  
  
"What's out there?" Quentin's expression betrayed his dread as he stared at Best, awaiting an answer. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to hear the answer or not.  
  
"You'll have to find that out - won't you? IF you want to leave."  
  
Quentin's head swiveled sharply toward Best. "If I want to leave?" He parroted, his eyes furious.  
  
"You and Miss Chavez."  
  
"It's a trap!"  
  
Best laughed. "No, it's not ONE trap. It's MANY traps. Many. My dear fellow, I'd be a FOOL if it weren't true.  
  
"Do you still want to try?"  
  
"With Beth, yes!! Or accept my original offer and send her back safely with you."  
  
"Good." Best swung the door shut behind him and they walked over to the reception desk. "Before she comes," Best reached down and rang the bell on the desk," may I give you one word of advise?"  
  
Quentin stared challengingly at Best, who continued. "Remember what I said earlier. If you touch her, if she touches you, she will be lost to you forever.  
  
Something about this didn't sound right to Quentin. "What happened to 'winner take all'?"  
  
"That IS our arrangement," Best smiled slightly. "Mr. Collins, were you assuming that you and Miss Chavez have - how shall I put this - the same ultimate destination?"  
  
Quentin now realized that being "together in death" might not after all be the same thing as being "together after death".  
  
"If both of you reach the outside world; and you can, though you think not. But if you do, you will be together - alive - and you can stay with her for the rest of her natural lifespan. Assuming of course that you are willing to do so."  
  
"But if you touch her, you are both lost. And if you lose your way, again, you will both be lost - through eternity. Do you understand?"  
  
"YES!" Quentin replied emphatically.  
  
Mr. Best gestured toward two candlesticks which had just appeared on the desk. "There are two candles. Your only weapons." He continued, as if to himself, "Sometimes I think I'm too compassionate. But that's the way I am.  
  
"Good Luck, Mr. Collins."  
  
Quentin watched Best leave through the first door, then picked up a candlestick in each hand. He walked back toward the door to -- whatever - and opened it. Once again he stared out into the unknown, trying to brace himself for the task ahead. He MUST NOT fail! "We must not touch," he repeated softly to himself, over and over. 


	3. The Wrath of Cerberus Chapter 3

The Wrath of Cerberus - Chapter 3  
  
"Quentin!" he turned as he heard Beth's voice behind him. He watched her silently for a moment, absorbing the sight of her, alive, intact - not the poor broken thing he had found on the rocks below Widow's Hill.  
  
Beth continued to walk toward him, her eyes wide. " HOW are you here? Only the dead can come here. Oh, Quentin, what did you DO after I appeared to you?" She looked him straight in the eyes, steadily, unblinkingly; a look he knew well. She would insist on answers and would continue in her quietly persistent way until he gave them to her. She reached out as if to caress his cheek.  
  
"Beth, NO!" He stepped back into the curtains and away from her, pushing the door shut with his hip. "Didn't they tell you? You can't touch me! We're lost if you do!"  
  
"Tell me, Quentin. What have you done? WHY will we be lost if we touch? I was told you were here. I was told to come to you. There's much more to it, isn't there?" She stood, hands on the hips of her navy blue frock, waiting expectantly.  
  
Quentin nodded, his mouth opened and closed, unsure where to begin. It was like when he wanted to explain his "engagement" to Angelique. He hadn't been able to think of how to do it w/o hurting Beth, so he procrastinated to the point of catastrophe. That disaster, he realized, was the direct cause of the present one. "Mr. Best - I made a deal - a wager..." The words tumbled over each other as the normally articulate Quentin raced to explain it all before he lost his nerve. "Weren't you told not to touch me?" he concluded.  
  
"No."  
  
"I see," he said flatly. "That means the test has already begun."  
  
"Do you have a plan?"  
  
"I think so, but I don't know much more than you do about what we'll be facing." He licked his lips nervously then continued. "Beth - can you find a way to trust me? After everything that's happened? I swear I'll find a way to get us out of this and back to the land of the living."  
  
Beth looked at him with the intent stare that Quentin always thought could see into the depths of his soul. He met her eyes squarely, hoping that she could see that there were no tricks, no lies. Of all the heedless damage he had caused, this was something he now had the power to put right, and he was determined to make it happen, no matter what it took.  
  
"The Quentin I fell in love with I loved despite his selfishness and cruelty - but I knew I could never trust him. Since all the horrors started happening, you've been different. You care whether people get hurt. It ripped out your heart to give up Lenore, but you did what you had to do to keep her safe. " She gasped as she realized something. "And you shut me out, pushed me away, so I would leave and be safe, too. I should have realized. The old Quentin would have had no problem telling me about Angelique - he never worried about hurting any woman. He would never have mourned me, much less cried for me.  
  
" THIS Quentin is a man I DO trust."  
  
"Thank you," he whispered.  
  
Beth's hand went up again, as if to stroke his hair, then froze in mid- motion.  
  
"Remember - we are not allowed to touch. No matter how much we want to; no matter what happens. If we do, everything's finished."  
  
"No matter what happens?" Beth echoed. "What do you expect to happen?"  
  
"I don't know. But this is where we have to go. Take this." He very carefully handed her one of the candlesticks, then used that hand to reopen the iron door.  
  
Beth gasped at what she saw, and turned to Quentin. "I'm frightened."  
  
"So am I," he responded. Each saw their fear reflected in the other's eyes. "But we'll be together - as close as I can manage.  
  
"Think of how wonderful it'll be when it's all over and we're both alive. First thing I'll do is hold you SO tight and kiss you until we both forget how to breathe." His voice became lower, seductive as he continued, "I'll take down your hair and spread it around you until you're standing before me wearing nothing but that beautiful hair. Then I'll carry you to bed and pleasure you slowly until neither one of us can move." Their mouths were now very close, eyes dark with passion from the word pictures Quentin had painted.  
  
"Quentin! We can't touch! Not yet!"  
  
"DAMMIT" Quentin shouted as he pulled back, slamming his fist against the doorframe. He shut his eyes and willed his breathing to come back to normal. "That was NOT one of my better ideas."  
  
"No it wasn't," Beth replied, her expression half amused and half exasperated.  
  
"I didn't think the danger'd start until the journey out. I didn't expect it before we left. Every minute we're here we're in more danger. We have to get moving. "  
  
Quentin gave her a bashful little boy smile and continued. " But I will remember that thought for later. Now, though, I'd better stick to slaughtered puppies and other sickening things. Or maybe I should just pretend that you're Angelique."  
  
Beth's face froze at the mention of Angelique.  
  
"I wouldn't have any trouble not touching HER. And it's impossible for a man to appreciate a woman's charms when he's thinking of nothing but slaughtered puppies." Quentin winked at Beth. "That's what I was planning if I couldn't get out of marrying her. "  
  
Beth laughed, despite the situation. "I don't know how you can joke at a time like this."  
  
"Probably because I'm too scared NOT to." He took a deep breath. "No point in holding back any longer. Let's begin." 


	4. The Wrath of Cerberus Chapter 4

The Wrath of Cerberus Chapter 4  
  
Quentin leaned out of the door, candle in hand, and looked for the route leading from the "lobby". Peering into the darkness, lit by frequent lightning flashes, he saw a narrow stone pathway sloping downward. He started onto it, bracing the door with his elbow so that Beth could follow.  
  
They started around the path, and the door slammed behind them with sharp finality. Just off the path were ominous shapes, writhing in primordial ooze. The wind howled, sounding like agonized cries. The flame of Quentin's candle wavered in the wind as he held it before him, trying to see the route more clearly.  
  
"Wait, Beth," he warned before he stopped. It would be stupid to risk her bumping into him and have this be over before they even had a chance. She stopped immediately.  
  
"We're coming to a fork. I want to check both paths before we choose one." He headed forward again, with her following him.  
  
"I want you to stay here. I'll come back after I check."  
  
"And what makes you think I'm any safer here than I would be with you?"  
  
He opened his mouth to reply, looked at the forking paths up ahead, looked at the weirdly illuminated shapes just off the path they were on, and shook his head ruefully. "Absolutely nothing, I guess. We'll try the right side first."  
  
He held the candle higher as they reached the branch off of the two paths. A sign arched across the two pathways: "Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here." Quentin snorted. "We need a sign like that at Collinwood.  
  
"No other way, though, so these are our choices." Holding the candle before him as if it were a sword he continued down the path, peering suspiciously into the half lit gloom for threats or traps. Beth followed shortly behind, holding her candle high.  
  
"The path seems clear - but it seems to loop around, in a circle. ". He turned slightly so that the candle illuminated the sides of the path.. "The circle surrounds an abyss." his voice trailed off as he tried to catch a fragment of memory, then continued as he recited as if by rote: | | |"Let us go on, for the long way impels us. | |Thus he went in, and thus he made me enter | |The foremost circle that surrounds the abyss" |  
  
Quentin started laughing, a not very humorous laugh.  
  
"Quentin I don't see anything funny about this!"  
  
He turned to look at Beth, the candle casting odd shadows across his face. "You certainly can't accuse Best of not having a sense of humor." Beth looked confused and he continued. "Here we are, reenacting Orpheus and Euridice - and we have to make our escape through Dante's Inferno!"  
  
"I've HEARD of Dante's Inferno," Beth replied hesitantly.  
  
"My schoolmaster made me read it; and translate it back and forth between Latin, Italian and English -- with a thorough whipping for every mistake. It was supposed to frighten me into behaving for fear of hellfire." He gave her a rueful, self-mocking grin. "Didn't work too well, did it?"  
  
"Will knowing this help us?"  
  
"I wish I knew. I think Best expected me to recognize it. He wasn't surprised when I remembered the Orpheus Euridice legend. Maybe the test is my being able to reason these things out; or maybe that's the trap. Or maybe the test will be knowing which is truly the trap when the moment comes."  
  
"What can I do?"  
  
Quentin paused and looked thoughtfully at Beth. He knew that as an upper level servant, a ladies maid, she had far more education and knowledge than the normal run of servants. Her father had been a schoolteacher, he suddenly recalled, and she'd had no choice but to go into service after he died. "Did you learn about any of this in school - myths, legends? "  
  
"Basic things. Not like boys are taught."  
  
He nodded, for he remembered that Judith, too, had been taught differently from her brothers. No Latin, Greek or Mathematics for her; she had been drawing watercolors, doing needlework and reading improving tracts.  
  
"We each may remember something the other doesn't. I'm relying on you as much as you're relying on me." He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and headed forward once more.  
  
The path continued downward growing darker and darker as it went. Quentin's steps slowed as the candlelight barely penetrated a foot ahead of him.  
  
"Quentin, I can barely see you. We'd better stop."  
  
"We can't go back, Beth."  
  
"I'm not saying we should!" she shot back. "But we can't keep going not knowing where the other one is. We need something to hold." She looked down at her clothing, "I don't have a sash or an apron.."  
  
Quentin looked as his clothes as well. "Hold my candle." They transferred the candle, careful not to let their hands brush each other. He started removing his jacket, considered whether it would work for what they needed, then smiled as he had an even more practical idea. He draped the jacket over one arm, undid and removed his vest, and reached inside the waistband of his trousers to undo the suspender buttons. Once he undid the button loops, he threw the free ends of the suspenders back over his shoulders.  
  
"Can you reach the ends without touching me?" Quentin asked as he redressed.  
  
"I think so, if you take the candle back." He did so and turned his back to her.  
  
Beth put her candle down on the pathway and crouched to pick up the loose ends of the suspenders, dangling near Quentin's knees.  
  
"The ends are too close - I'm afraid I'll touch you."  
  
"Wait a second." He put his free hand behind his back and squirmed, groping for one of the suspender straps. When he caught it he held it as far from his body as he could manage. Beth waited for the loose ends to stop swinging, then hooked her finger in the buttonloops.  
  
"Got it!"  
  
"That's my girl!"  
  
She picked up the candle again and stood slowly as Quentin stood motionless, back to her.  
  
"Ready?" he asked.  
  
"Not quite. I have to get the ends untangled."  
  
"It'll work best one in each hand - like the reins of a horse."  
  
"I know," she replied shortly, annoyed that he felt he had to tell her something so obvious. "That's what I'm working on.ah, there it goes," she concluded as she moved the candlestick and finished slipping the loop over the fingers of her other hand. She jerked the suspenders as if slapping the reins on a stubborn horse. "Giddyap!"  
  
Quentin's eyebrows rose and he chuckled appreciatively. "Yes Ma'am!" he replied, holding his candle high as he lead them down into the stygian darkness before them. 


	5. The Wrath of Cerberus Chapter 5

The Wrath of Cerberus - Chapter 5  
by Jeannie  
  
They continued on through the darkness, the air around them growing progressively chillier. If anything, it seemed to grow darker as they proceeded. Quentin turned his head. "Can you still see me Beth?"  
  
"Just barely. Isn't it any better up ahead?"  
  
"Not that I can tell. We'll have to stop again. I've got an idea." He moved his candle carefully from hand to hand as he removed his jacket & vest, his crisply starched white shirt now sharply visible. "Should have thought of this when we stopped before."  
  
"Your shirt IS much easier to see than that blue jacket."  
  
"Good. Soon I'll need both candles in order to see anything at all. It's getting colder, too - put on my vest and jacket and hand me your candle." They made the exchange and Beth struggled to push up the sleeves of Quentin's jacket so she could maneuver her hands, and wrapped some of the length of his suspenders around her hands to bring them closer together.  
  
They started off again, and got some way down a path that grew steadily colder, darker and more slippery. Their steps slowed, then slowed even more as they fought not to slide or trip and bump each other. Soon they were sliding their feet along, like little children on their first ice skates, moving more and more cautiously as the darkness deepened still further.  
  
"I can't see anything - even with both candles."  
  
"Now what do we do?"  
  
"I don't know. I don't know," he repeated, looking around desperately, dragging a hand through his hair as if the answer were to be found there.  
  
"Imagine that - the great Quentin Collins not knowing what to do," the voice came from everywhere and nowhere, echoing through the cold wind around them.  
  
"You always know what has to be done; and you always do what you must, don't you Quentin?"  
  
"Carl?"  
  
"You remembered me. I'm touched." Carl materialized from behind an outcropping, carrying an old fashioned lantern, his hand held over his heart mockingly. "After all the murders you have to your credit, how DO you keep track of all the victims?"  
  
"Oh, but I forgot," Carl continued, the words cutting into his brother like a knife. "You didn't actually murder me, did you? Spineless coward that you are, you couldn't even do it yourself. You made sure Barnabas would do your dirty work for you."  
  
"I never wanted you dead! I couldn't think of anything else to do! Yes, I knew he might kill you, but I hoped he knew something I didn't -- some way to keep you quiet without killing you."  
  
Quentin heard Beth draw her breath in sharply and he flinched. Had he ever told her about Carl? Had she known about Barnabas then? Or had she believed whatever story it was that Edward had thought up? He didn't even remember. He sat down heavily on an outcropping and slumped over, staring into the flames of the candles still clutched in each hand. "Beth - take the candles. You may need them later." He thrust the candlesticks forward toward her without looking up, unable to face the contempt she must now feel for him.  
  
"And that's supposed to make everything just fine, is it. Well it's not. I'm STILL DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!"  
  
"And you don't know how much I wish I could change that." Quentin replied, his voice raw with pain.  
  
Carl didn't answer, but gestured widely with his lantern, and for the first time Beth & Quentin were able to see their surroundings. "Do you know where you are yet?"  
  
Quentin felt a tug as Beth pulled on his suspenders, trying to get his attention. "Quentin, let's keep moving. There's no point to this."  
  
Quentin looked up and gave her a sad, cynical smile. "Oh, but there is. The candles won't light our way any more. Yet we can see clearly by the light from Carl's lantern. He's our guide - our only way out. We have to give him his pound of flesh; no matter what form it takes."  
  
"You always were the smart one, Quentin. Everything came so easily to you. Looks, charm -- and brains too. When you were around, no woman ever gave me a second glance, except my Pansy. Yes, I get the dubious honor of being your Virgil - one of them anyway. But we have business to settle first. Answer my question."  
  
Quentin looked at him distractedly, then got up and looked closer at his surroundings, still caught up in reliving the events of the past. The coldness, the victims frozen into the sea of ice beneath their feet - that plus Carl's presence brought him to an unpleasant conclusion. "9th Circle of Hell. It's for traitors."  
  
"Those who have betrayed members of their families," Carl corrected sharply.  
  
Quentin shut his eyes briefly in pain and nodded. He looked over at his brother but could not bring himself to meet Carl's eyes, staring instead at a point just past his left shoulder. "Why now, Carl? All this happened months ago. I expected your ghost to haunt me the way Grandmamma and Jenny did. But the only place I ever saw you was in my nightmares. I relived that night over and over and over - and every time it ended the same way. OH, WHY COULDN'T YOU HAVE JUST KEPT YOUR MOUTH SHUT?"  
  
With a visible effort he met his brother's eyes. "Tell me, Carl. If I'd been the vampire in that coffin, what would you have done? Would you have tried to help your brother, or would you have hammered a stake through my heart the first chance you got? When Magda cursed me, Barnabas and Beth were the only ones who helped me; if you and Edward had known you would have shot me as soon as look at me. I didn't want you dead, but your betraying Barnabas would have been signing my death warrant. If it had been you in my place, you'd have done no differently."  
  
Carl turned and moved forward, gesturing to Quentin to follow him.  
  
"Answer me, Carl. Would you have risked your life to keep from killing me? You know you wouldn't -- any more than I could." Carl continued moving forward as if Quentin had never spoken.  
  
"Quentin - How can we trust him? He might get us lost deliberately so we can never find our way back. As much as he hates you.."  
  
"Do you see any other choice, though? I don't." Quentin moved to walk beside his brother, with Beth bringing up behind them, still holding the candles and the loops of Quentin's suspenders.  
  
"You've left quite a trail of destruction behind you, Quentin. After Barnabas killed me you were so terrified that you couldn't even look at me in my coffin - much less go to my funeral. You hid in your room, playing that miserable music and drinking yourself into a stupor. It was almost worth being dead to see you that way - terrified the way you'd always terrified me when we were children."  
  
"We had a lot of fun together when we were kids."  
  
"Sure, we had fun - when I did what you wanted me to. When I wouldn't go along, you made my life hell on earth. Now I can do the same for you."  
  
"Carl.Your quarrel is with me. Leave Beth out of this; she's done you nothing. You must know about the wager - why I'm here." Carl nodded shortly and Quentin continued in the same low voice, trying not to let Beth overhear their conversation. "Then you know she can't continue on without me. Best would never allow her to leave. Don't punish her for what I've done, Carl. She deserves better."  
  
"So did most of the people whose lives you destroyed. Want to know why I didn't haunt you the way you deserved, Quentin? It was Jenny. She came to me and convinced me not to do it."  
  
Quentin's eyes widened in surprise and Carl continued, "How does it feel to have the woman you've wronged cloak your sins for you? Your wife, the woman you drove mad, then murdered. The woman whose last memory on Earth was of the hands of her husband and lover, the father of her children, the man who SHOULD have been her protector, choking the life out of her. The hate in your eyes was the last thing she ever saw."  
  
The sound of a resounding SMACK echoed. "You HIT me!" Carl's hand went to his face as he turned in surprise to see Beth, livid with anger, glaring at him, her hand still raised.  
  
"And I'll do it again if you don't stop it, you vicious spoilt brat! There's no need to torment him this way."  
  
"How can you defend him when he killed you too?"  
  
"PETOFI caused my death, Carl. Not Quentin. That's one thing you can't blame him for, but that hasn't stopped him from blaming himself. Just as he can't stop blaming himself for Jenny's death and everything that's happened since he was cursed."  
  
"Ah, but is it really remorse, Beth, or is he like the thief who isn't a bit sorry he stole, but is terribly, terribly sorry he's going to jail?"  
  
Beth's expression was cold and furious as she faced Carl, her hand partially raised as if to strike him again. "You already know the answer to that. You couldn't use what he did to torment him if his actions didn't bother him. Not even Petofi was able to do that. Petofi used the rest of us - made us face the things that we'd kept hidden, even from ourselves. He tried to use your death against Quentin, but he couldn't. Not because he was so callous that it didn't bother him, but because he'd never denied his responsibility for your death."  
  
Quentin stared down, oblivious to this exchange, not seeing the frozen heads and bodies he was stepping over, half imbedded in the ice, not hearing their bitter laments. Memories replayed themselves inside his skull; the images of a thousand nightmares, watching himself, hands around Jenny's neck, not letting go until her dead eyes stared at him. He looked at Carl, his eyes reflecting a deep, unending pain. "I know what I've done, Carl. Dear God, I know what I've done and how many people have suffered for it. Better than you or anyone else could possibly know."  
  
Beth moved around Quentin so that he couldn't avoid looking at her. "Quentin, if you were as evil as Carl wants you to think you are, you wouldn't regret anything you've done. Look at Petofi. He murdered and used people and enjoyed every second of it. The more he hurts people, the happier he is."  
  
"But that doesn't undo anything that's happened, does it Beth? What is it they say, 'the road to hell is paved with good intentions'? I never set out to hurt anyone. All I wanted was enough money and freedom to do what I wanted. Everything else just. happened.  
  
"Carl wanted the same things I did, didn't you, Carl. To be rich enough, powerful enough that you could live your life the way you wanted to and the family could never touch you. Did you really think I'd managed that? I had to crawl to Grandmother for everything I wanted, same as you did.  
  
"How can you still envy me, seeing how things have turned out? I truly did love Jenny - beautiful Jenny with that wonderful voice - but then we came back to Collinwood and it all started falling apart. I'm to blame for her death, but it took more than me alone to turn her into the murderous lunatic who drove that knife into my chest."  
  
"You've done enough Carl. Quentin and I have made our peace."  
  
"JENNY?" 


End file.
